


Alignment

by sungmissive



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Awkwardness, Blow Jobs, Bottom Han Jisung | Han, Crying During Sex, Fluff and Smut, Laughter During Sex, M/M, Making Out, Masturbation in Bathroom, Mutual Pining, Neck Kissing, Oral Sex, Pet Names, Pillow & Blanket Forts, Porn with Feelings, Size Kink, So much praise, Teasing, Top Lee Minho | Lee Know, Virgins Minsung, help them, if you squint there is some kind of plot, please do not follow Jisung's example during these times, soft, they have no idea what they're doing, they lose their virginities together in a pillow fort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:41:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27371341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sungmissive/pseuds/sungmissive
Summary: He wanted to keep all of this forever: the warmth under the fabric roof of the pillow fort; the patter of the rain against the window panes; the drowned out sound of a Park Hyo Shin song murmuring from Jisung’s phone underneath the ruffled pile of blankets; the purple glow of the children’s fairy lights that managed to turn all of their physical vices into virtues. It would all be torn down in a few hours, this little world they’d made for themselves, and the universe would soon forget it, so for now they kissed, and their hands etched essays of endearment where they roamed, and they whispered each other’s names against swollen lips.They’d make the universe wait to take this away.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 60
Kudos: 650





	Alignment

**Author's Note:**

> Whoa my first fic! I've been working on this for quite a while now, and I'm so happy to say that it's finally completed - I definitely didn't intend for it to end up being a whole 15k, but here we are lol. These two are painfully awkward and adorable and it made me so happy while writing it, so I hope this can bring you some happiness too! 
> 
> One thing I'll mention is that in the beginning, Jisung struggles with a certain dance move in the choreography of a song; as this was written over the course of a couple of comebacks, I absolutely had no exact move in mind fhsdsdjk so it's a little vague. Feel free to interpret the move however you want.
> 
> I really hope you enjoy and consider leaving some feedback! <3

‘Again.’

The music restarted. He moved to the beat, shoes squeaking against the sweat on the floor of dozens of failed attempts, limbs twisting, stinging. 

‘Again.’

All eyes were on him as they repeated the move. His stomach did backflips and his twisting, stinging limbs betrayed his twisting, stinging brain.

‘Again. Leg higher.’

He knew who it was directed to, so he raised it, but still he fumbled with his movements.

‘Jisung, are you okay?’

Humiliating. He returned Chan’s stare through the glass, wiping his top lip with the back of his hand. ‘Sorry.’

‘No, I just—’ The older sighed, dipping his head in thought. ‘Okay, everyone take five.’

The others scattered to the couches in the corner of the practice room, glistening arms shifting to pick up water bottles and soft chatter starting up. Jisung returned the sigh and ran a hand through his hair, unsticking brown locks from his forehead. ‘I don’t know why I can’t get it right.’

‘We can change the move,’ Chan offered, and Jisung shook his head adamantly. ‘All right… one of us could teach it to you one on one. Minho, maybe.’

Jisung served him an awkward smile and lowered his voice. ‘Does it have to be Minho?’

‘Dude,’ Chan scoffed, eyes filled with a knowing look. ‘You’ll live. You know that he teaches you well.’

Jisung couldn’t deny that. 

He enjoyed being alone with Minho; enjoyed talking to him, enjoyed being around him, enjoyed their cuddle sessions and blurred-line dates. He enjoyed him as a person, a little more than he probably should have.

He liked him a little more than he probably should have. 

He liked to think that Minho liked him back a little more than he probably should have.

Which was why being alone with him in a sweat-fogged practice room, sharing panting breaths and Minho’s hands all over him to direct his movements didn’t sound like a very safe idea.

But Chan was right.

‘Okay, fine.’

It would probably be fine. 

Minho shot him a glance from the couches, a soft smile embedded into his cheeks. Jisung couldn’t help but return it.

‘It’s not going to be fine,’ Jisung said a couple of hours later, gnawing down onto the straw of his iced americano. His eyes were glued to where Hyunjin was tapping away at an arcade machine on some kind of game of tetris, hands working seemingly skilfully yet the screen proving the opposite. He was doing terribly. The amount of coins the machine had chewed up from his pocket was nothing short of disgraceful. Jisung wouldn’t be able to do any better, though — games didn’t agree with him. He preferred to watch and judge.

Conscious of the loud gaggle of teenagers entering the arcade behind him, he pressed himself deeper into the corner of Hyunjin’s arcade machine and raised his face mask a little higher. When the door opened, streams of sunset flooded in for just a moment, and when it shut, the building returned to its dark, neon state, closed off from the rest of the world. Jisung liked places like these, despite the loud kids.

‘Why’s that?’ Hyunjin asked through his own face mask, his focus on the screen, but concern laced into his tone. His beanie was tilted on his head, pushing some long, blonde locks into his eyes. It couldn’t have been helping. 

‘Uh, love of my life, alone with me, a horny virgin. Sweaty bodies, dancing and touching. I’d usually be fine, but the comeback and this stupid move have me _seriously_ on edge, and I haven’t jerked off in a few weeks, and if he touches me I think I might cum on the _spot_ , or _worse_ , spout out my feelings for him—’

Hyunjin delivered him a shocked look, breaking his ramble, the familiar red glow of the _game over_ screen lighting up his features. The sound of his failure reflected in the shitty arcade machine audio was like nails against a chalkboard in Jisung’s ears at this point. He wished he would win already. He knew he wouldn’t. ‘You two _haven’t_ fucked?’

‘Rub it in, why don’t you,’ Jisung grumbled. He sloshed his drink around in its cup, the ice crashing on waves against the plastic, then took a sip. If only he could enjoy it.

‘No, I mean… we were all _positive_ you had.’ He returned to his game after watching Jisung shake his head moodily, fitting another coin into the machine. ‘Like, yeah, I knew you were dumb and in love but I expected friends with benefits at _least_ , with how you guys cling to each other.’

‘We just cuddle. It’s like, whenever I _think_ he’s going to make a move, he backs out. I don’t know what he’s thinking.’

‘You could make a move,’ Hyunjin said absently, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

‘ _Or_ I could _not_ risk fucking everything up.’

‘ _Or_ you could stop being a _bitchbaby_ and speak your mind for once.’ 

Jisung had always hated how observant Hyunjin was. He could piece him apart so easily; Minho tended to do the same thing, but communicated it through knowing smiles and reassuring cuddles. He didn’t pester and dissect Jisung like Hyunjin did. He loved him just as much, though, even if in a different way.

‘Everything’s just easier if nothing changes.’ Jisung was looking down, toeing a forgotten arcade ticket into the blue-tinted floor.

Hyunjin was silent for a couple of beats. Jisung could see him staring through the corner of his vision. ‘Even if it could change for the better?’

‘I’m not willing to test my luck.’

‘Fuck luck. Do what feels right.’

‘Nothing feels right. I shoot in the dark and hope I hit something, Hyunjin.’

‘You won’t hit something if you don’t shoot.’

‘And what if the target is too small?’ Jisung turned to face him. ‘Minho might not even like me back.’

There was another silence before a sigh from Hyunjin. He decided to leave it there, clearly, because he was slotting yet another coin into the machine and readying his hands.

‘So what are you going to do?’ He asked after a while.

Jisung chewed down on his bottom lip. ‘I don’t know. He’s going to teach me the move one on one tonight, and I’ll try not to lose my shit, and then we’ll keep doing what we’re doing.’

‘He likes you more than you think he does, you know,’ Hyunjin hummed.

‘I know.’ Jisung watched him play again, watched him fail to slot a tetris block into the right spot for the umpteenth time, and let out a quiet chuckle. He wasn’t sure if the chuckle was directed at Hyunjin’s awful gaming abilities or the hopelessness of his own situation, but he figured it might have been at both. ‘Hard to convince myself of it, though.’

A soft smile from the older boy, though he kept his focus on the game. The _game over_ screen returned, and he reached into his pocket for another coin.

‘Dude, give it up. This is embarrassing,’ Jisung sighed with a wince, eyes flickering around to be sure that no one had seen his pathetic efforts. 

‘You can only judge me when you get that move right,’ Hyunjin scoffed, jerking away cowardly when Jisung threatened to whack him.

‘At least there’s a _chance_ of me getting the move right,’ Jisung retorted, before the two boys switched reactions. They giggled and Hyunjin reached down to card his hand through his hair. 

‘Okay, you can judge me when you finally sleep with Minho.’

‘Booooo,’ Jisung laughed, sticking his tongue out. ‘Unfair play.’

A few hours later, the sun now set and the sky making room for stars, he was stood outside the door of the practice room, staring down to his feet and mentally preparing himself, before letting himself in. 

Minho was sat on the couches, phone in hand. He looked up upon hearing the click of the door opening and served Jisung a nod.

‘Hi,’ Minho said.

‘Hi,’ Jisung said.

‘Okay, so, you’re really shit at this move, and we only have the practice room rented for an hour, so let’s hurry up and start,’ Minho spoke honestly, though grinned as he said it, and stood from the couches. 

‘I’m not _that_ bad,’ Jisung lied, and received a sarcastic laugh and a ruffle of his hair in response.

Jisung had to admit that he’d been a little pedantic earlier. He had more self control than he’d given himself credit for, focusing on the move and only sneaking one or two peeks at Minho’s bare, sweating arms. One or two meaning around a dozen, though he really did manage to keep himself composed for the most part. 

He was starting to get the move, now — Minho knew him, knew how he ticked, so just as Chan had said, he always taught him well. They seemed to connect that way in terms of everything, slotting together perfectly. The only thing they really lacked in was communication; god, Jisung wished that either one of them would just _do something_ , when Minho’s hands brush against his skin as he teaches him and they say nothing save for a shared shaky exhale, or when Jisung smiles, and Minho smiles, too, and looks as if he were about to say something, but decides against it at the last second. 

It had been like this for years. The pushing and pulling, will they, won’t they. If Minho did feel the same way, which the younger very much liked to think that he did, Jisung doubted he would ever make a real move. He was too kind in that sense, too selfless. He’d put Jisung’s comfort before his own every time, never going too far, sticking to what they knew, which was warm cuddles, and silly winks, and off-guard compliments that they’d dismiss as jokes. Jisung wished he wouldn’t.

The hour was almost up, and he felt more confident in the move, now. Minho praised him with a rub of his back each time he improved. They were laughing, and joking around, and Jisung had almost forgotten why he’d been so worried. 

Jisung’s brain was always so loud, too loud, too complicated, shouting and overthinking and painting colourful things black, but when he was with Minho, everything was a little quieter. A little simpler. He was thankful. He felt good.

The hour was almost up, and he’d gotten through it.

‘It’s practically perfect, but one little thing you could change with your arms is…’

Oh, fuck.

Minho suddenly pushed up behind him, his larger build enveloping Jisung’s back as he gently reached to grab his wrists. Jisung’s breath hitched, his heart leaping, and he watched Minho guide his arms in the silence. 

Oh, _fuck._

Jisung begged his own mind to not think about Minho’s warm breath up against his neck. About how strong his hands felt around his wrists. About how Minho’s hips were pressed into his ass, and how badly he wanted to grind against him. About how easily he could turn around to kiss him right now. But of course, he thought about it, and it was suddenly much more important of a thought than memorising whatever Minho was currently teaching him.

Minho seemed to pause and look at their position in the mirror. Jisung was pressed against his chest, wrists in Minho’s hold and fingers rested at his palms, their hands so close to connecting. A light, breathy and somewhat awkward chuckle brushed past Jisung’s ear. ‘We kind of look like a couple like this.’

He might’ve expected Jisung to come out with one of his silly retorts, to call him stupid or weird for suggesting such a thing, but all Jisung could find himself being able to do was stare back at him through that damned dance mirror, fogged with their sweat yet unable to mask the deep, peachy colour of his cheeks. Eyes wide. Pants tight. He wished the ground would swallow him up.

There was a long silence. A painfully long one.

‘Uh,’ Jisung finally and intelligently broke it, ‘I’ve gotta piss.’ 

He dipped his head before he could read Minho’s expression in the mirror. Another painfully long silence.

‘So, uh, I’m gonna go to the bathroom.’

And then he was less than elegantly tearing his wrists from Minho’s hold and rushing to the bathroom with his shirt pulled over the top of his sweatpants. Minho saw. There was no way he didn’t.

Upon reaching the bathroom, he threw himself into a stall, locked the door and curled up on the toilet seat.

Jisung palmed himself through his sweatpants, his mind in a daze and legs wobbling like jelly. He didn’t even try to hold back his subsequent moans; most people had usually left this floor at this hour, and he was positive that Minho wouldn’t have followed him. Not after… _that_ . Not after making a horny fool of himself and walking out _half-hard_ upon hearing Minho joke about the prospect of them being a couple. Oh, god, how was he ever going to make eye contact with him again?

He let the anxious thoughts drift to the back of his mind as he tuned in to his currently aching dick — orgasm now, anxiety later. 

He was quick to free it, peeling his sweat-dampened pants and boxers past his hips and dropping them to pool by his ankles. It was almost embarrassing how hard he was, how his cock was already oozing with precum, how his whole body jerked when he finally took it into his hand. Bobbing his fist over the tip and smearing his mess down for more glide, he began to relentlessly pump the length of his sensitive cock, squeaking at the contact. His other hand moved to claw at the partition of the stall.

‘Minho,’ Jisung mumbled mindlessly, cheeks dusted red and back arching against the porcelain tank of the toilet. Minho’s arms around him. Minho pressing against his ass. Minho’s soft voice in his ear. He let his mind fill with those thoughts, those memories from just a moment prior, and he rolled his palm over the head of his dick with a loud whine. ‘ _Minho_ …’

Minho’s hands exploring his bare body. Minho kissing him. Minho inside him. He let his mind fill with those thoughts, those fantasies. The movements of his hand sped up, pleasure bubbling deep inside of him and seeping into every crevice of his body.

‘Please,’ he uttered, the word caught on a moan, and he lifted his legs, spreading them to slip his free hand downward. His noises bounced off of every tile in the bathroom, echoing those mewls and filthy wet sounds back to him. The room grew louder as he gently traced his fingertips around his rim, his thighs squeezing around his hand — he pretended it was Minho’s fingers rubbing and threatening to dip inside, pretended it was Minho’s thumb touching that sensitive part under the head of his cock. Minho, Minho, Minho. He was all he could think about. He was so close. It was all he could think about.

Until the door to the bathroom opened and he heard footsteps outside the stall; now all he could think about was throwing his hand across his mouth and suppressing the frustrated whine that tickled his throat. He was so fucking _close_.

He looked down, through the gap under the stall door. Black sneakers. He calmed his breathing and heard muffled EDM through a pair of headphones. 

Chan.

Okay, it made sense, given that his studio was on this floor, but Jisung was still dangerously close to slamming the stall door open and giving him a piece of his mind. Impatiently, he waited for the older man to finish up, wash his hands, and leave the room.

He let out an audible sigh at his softening dick. He’d might as well just go home.

When he did, he rushed straight to his room, thanking every god that Jeongin was out, and curled up on his bed.

It was raining.

Jisung had always liked the sound of rain — found it soothing, inspiring, a good background sound to his music writing. But that sort of rain was the soft kind, with gentler patters against concrete and room for thought, the kind you’d snuggle up in a blanket and drink a hot chocolate to the sound of. This rain was angry, and hit the windows as if it were to shatter them, and was too melancholy to enjoy. The sky sounded as if it were about to fall. The sky in Jisung’s heart felt that way, too.

That being said, Jisung knew he was being dramatic. They hadn’t even fought, for god’s sake. Yeah, he had gotten flustered after what Minho had said and ran out of the room like an idiot, but Minho was the type to pretend something didn’t happen if it was clear someone didn’t want to talk about it; which Jisung was thankful for, but he wasn’t sure that he wanted Minho to pretend it didn’t happen, either.

He was so conflicted.

He’d been conflicted since the moment he’d met him. His heart burning with something he didn’t understand when he heard him introduce his name, when he heard him giggle, when he watched him simply sit there in trainee lessons and look breathtakingly gorgeous. Conflicted, because he’d dismissed that feeling as jealousy for a long time, but eventually began to have an inkling that regular envy didn’t involve imagining Minho’s hands on him when he got off, or hoping he’d make a move every time they were alone.

Conflicted now, because he wanted all of Minho, and he still wanted his hands on him, and he wanted to hold his hands in a more than _best friends beating around the bush_ type of way. Conflicted now, because despite it all, he didn’t trust himself not to ruin everything. 

As he sat huddled in his bed amongst blankets and tuned in to the heavy rain outside and in his heart, his knees pressed to his chest, he sighed. He wished things could be simple.

A buzz from his phone pulled him out of his thoughts. He almost didn’t check it, wallowing in exaggerated despair seeming like a better option, but found himself reaching for it anyway.

 _21:17_ **_Chan:_** _How did the move go?_

Jisung scrunched his nose when he saw who’d texted him, still a little, or more than a little begrudged by the bathroom incident.

 _21:19_ **_Jisung:_** _i think i’ve got it now_

 _21:20_ **_Chan:_** _That’s great! Hey the rest of us are going out to a restaurant and checking out that new action movie_

 _21:20_ **_Chan:_** _You wanna come?_

He’d _love_ to!

 _21:20_ **_Jisung:_** _no_

 _21:21_ **_Chan:_** _Ok you’ll be alone with Minho for the next few hours then_

He froze.

 _21:22_ **_Jisung:_** _wait what_

 _21:22_ **_Chan:_** _He didn’t feel like coming so it’s just you two_

 _21:22_ **_Chan:_** _Make sure to eat dinner pls don’t just sit in your room_

Jisung hugged his knees tighter. 

_21:23_ **_Chan:_** _Maybe practice your move some more with him_

He scoffed to himself.

 _21:23_ **_Chan:_** _Have fun <3 ily_

He considered shutting his phone off and ignoring his last message, but ended up sending a hesitant _ily_ back, considering Chan hadn’t an idea he was annoyed at him and he’d preferred to keep it that way.

He also considered just sleeping for the rest of the night and waking up on a new slate, far too proud to risk heading out into the kitchen to get food and seeing him. He more than considered it, actually, slipping into a new set of clothes and wriggling himself under his blankets. He’d watch a National Geographic video before he slept, something about sharks that would focus his mind on the mysterious, deep natures of the sea rather than the man who laid just a couple of walls away.

Halfway through, though, he heard a knock at his door, sort of high-energy and childlike. Wishing he’d assume he was asleep, he stayed silent, but the doorknob turned nonetheless and a smile-ridden Minho washed in.

‘Do you wanna build a pillow fort?’

He sang the line. Jisung furrowed his brow.

‘Did you just make a fucking Frozen reference?’

There was a short moment where the two boys just gazed at each other in silence, as if assessing whether they were okay or not, before snorting and breaking into laughter. They were okay. Of course they were; they always were. They didn’t need to talk about it. It’d be pushed under the rug along with every other more-than-platonic interaction they’d had. Jisung had grown to be okay with it. He had to, or he’d break.

The rain seemed to calm a little.

‘Dude, that movie is so old,’ Jisung continued to laugh even after he’d pulled himself out of bed. ‘No one references it anymore. You’re so weird.’

Minho laughed in place of a response, unable to defend himself.

‘I’ll get the snacks, you get the blankets and pillows?’ Minho offered, and Jisung frowned. ‘No, Jisung, you’re not getting the snacks, because by the time they get into the fort they’ll be half gone.’

‘Then how can I trust _you_ won’t eat the snacks?’

‘Because I have self control.’

Too much of it, Jisung liked to think.

‘I have self control!’ Jisung’s self control compelled him to run away rather than just be a _normal fucking person_ and pretend to take Minho’s words as a joke, but it was self control nonetheless.

Minho didn’t care to reply to that; he simply scoffed and headed off to the kitchen. 

As he heard the sounds of bowls and pouring snacks, also known as dinner, in the other room, Jisung collected bunches of his own pillows and blankets and stuffed animals in his arms, before waddling into the living room and throwing them down to the floor. He moved to Minho’s room and did the same.

Minho’s voice was almost lost through the whooshing of the rain and wind outside. ‘You ever made a pillow fort?’ 

‘By myself, a lot, mostly when I was younger,’ Jisung said, padding back into the living room and contributing the load of sheets onto the floor. ‘They’re good to write in. Kind of block everything else out.’

Minho left the bowls of snacks in the kitchen and dragged a couple of chairs to where Jisung stood. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever made one.’

‘Holy shit, I’m here to watch you lose your pillow fort virginity.’ Minho laughed at that. 

‘Lead me through it,’ Minho said seductively, quirking a joking brow, and it was Jisung’s turn to laugh. The older man pretended to shy away, glanced at him and covered the bottom half of his face with one hand. ‘Don’t laugh. I’m embarrassed… I’ve never done this before.’

‘Shut up,’ Jisung snorted and threw a pillow his way, which he caught in his arms. ‘Get a couple more chairs. We’ll make a sort of… square with them.’

Minho did as told, bringing two more chairs over, and they formed a large square with them, with the seats faced outward. Jisung began to throw sheets and blankets over the top to create the roof, Minho following in suit. On the inside, they hung more blankets over the backs of the chairs and covered the floor with ever more of them, as well as dozens of pillows and stuffed animals. 

‘This is my spot,’ Jisung declared, delicately placing his favourite pig plushie on the spot that looked the most comfortable. Minho smiled, one of those smiles followed by that awful silence of him holding back what he wanted to say.

The pillow fort looked good, especially with the snacks now placed inside, but Minho looked unsure. ‘It’s too dark. I’ll be right back.’

He shuffled off to his room, and Jisung took the opportunity to climb into the pillow fort. It was warm, and so soft, and exactly what he needed. His arms clung to his pig plushie as he waited for Minho to return. 

He eventually did, with a pair of spindly cords in hand. He switched the living room lights off before he came back, filling the house with darkness. Upon crawling into the fort himself, Jisung could see that they were two sets of fairy lights, one with small bulbs and the other with larger, star-shaped ones, both battery operated. ‘You’re a genius!’ Jisung gasped. 

Minho sent him a smug look, closed off the fort with a sheet, and wrapped the cords messily around the inside ‘walls’, using the chairs to stabilise them. They looked a little haphazard, crossing over one another, though it didn’t really matter; not when he switched them on, and the interior was suddenly painted with thousands of stars. It turned out that the star-shaped bulbs cast purple light, bright and pretty, reminiscent of the arcade lighting that Jisung had come to love. The smaller ones were a soft yellow and scattered small dots across their clothes and faces. 

Jisung found himself touching a purple star on one of the walls. ‘It’s so pretty.’

Minho settled down into the pillows and admired the view.

‘You know what else is pretty?’ Jisung hummed, lying next to him and resting his head on his arm. The pig plushie came along too, of course. Minho stared at him, anticipating the answer. ‘Me.’

‘I’m way prettier than you,’ Minho argued. He threw an arm around Jisung’s waist; or, well, shuffled it under the pig to hold his waist.

‘Sorry, I can’t hear you over how pretty I am.’ Jisung reached for his phone and grinned at the laugh he pulled out of the older. A few taps against the screen, and a playlist filled the fort, all soft ballads that made Jisung’s heart feel all warm. He chucked the phone aside.

It was silent for a while. Not completely, not with the playlist going, and the occasional sounds of snacks rattling in bowls and of chewing, but silent between the boys. A comfortable silence. The kind that they liked. 

They chatted a little. Meaningless chatter. Banter and pokes and more chewing.

‘Have you ever been in love?’

The sudden, deeper question took Jisung by surprise, but it didn’t fluster him. He thought about it for a long time, unsure of what Minho might have wanted to hear. He surely didn’t expect him to confess his feelings for him right now. It was just a simple question. A simple question, yet had Jisung’s mind at war with itself.

‘You think too much, Han Jisung.’ The sentence dripped like honey off of his tongue; a compliment, not an insult. Jisung found himself dropping a shame-filled ‘sorry’ nonetheless, and Minho shook his head. ‘I like it about you.’

Jisung fell red.

‘Han Jisung’s brain is a beautiful monster. I can’t wait to watch you tame it some day.’

He didn’t try to piece that one apart. Just let it sit in the silence accompanied by some squishy chewing of gummy bears from Minho.

‘I think so,’ Jisung eventually admitted in answer to his question. ‘I don’t know. Love is weird.’

‘I don’t really get crushes often, so I’m still trying to figure it out,’ Minho explained. 

Jisung sighed, staring up at the lights on the walls of sheets. ‘I don’t know about being _in love_ , but love for me is when something or someone becomes, like, a safe space. Like, I love all of the members, and I love my bed, and chocolate, and my piggy.’ He patted the pig plushie’s head as he mentioned it. ‘The arcade, too. I’m not necessarily in love with them, but they all bring out that kind of feeling.’

‘Hmm.’ Minho thought for a moment. ‘We’re different in that sense. I don’t really have many favourite things. I have my cats, and my family, and the members, but apart from that, I can’t say there’s much I hold dearly.’

‘The point is the same, though. When you love someone, you’ll start to group them in with those few things you also love,’ Jisung spoke. ‘You might wake up one day and think, “holy shit, I love this person as much as I love my cats”.’

‘Bold of you to assume I’ll love anyone as much as I love my cats,’ Minho joked, and Jisung giggled. He tightened his hold around his waist. ‘In your case, it seems harder. How do you know if you’re in love with someone if you love them as much as so many other things?’

He cuddled closer to Minho. ‘I guess in the end it’s a different sort of love. You just kind of… know. Which isn’t very helpful, but…’

‘I think I get it,’ Minho said. ‘Do you know?’

Another question that caught Jisung by surprise. It flustered him this time, warm cheeks pressing into his pig plushie. ‘Do you?’

Jisung peered up at him, and he didn’t seem to have an answer, instead choosing to stare into his eyes with a tilt of his head. He could have kissed him. He didn’t.

‘Love is dumb,’ Minho loudly sighed, breaking eye contact to briefly throw his head back.

‘Agreed.’ Jisung sat up a little, up on his side but still lying down, rested on his elbow. ‘You don’t seem like much of a lover, anyway. You’re more of a player.’

Minho chuckled at that, removing his arm from his waist to grab a few more gummy bears. He popped them all into his mouth and chewed them. ‘Is that right?’

‘Mm. Your body count is probably sky high.’

‘Hmm, let me think,’ Minho said, looking down to his hands and moving his fingers as if he were counting, ‘zero.’

A comically long pause. 

‘Wait, you’re a _virgin_ ?’ Jisung asked in perhaps a little too shocked of a tone, covering his mouth with his hands. _Lee Minho_ was a virgin? The sexy, always confident Lee Minho? ‘ _Seriously_?’

‘Ouch?’ the older laughed, brows upturning. ‘I almost wasn’t once, but things didn’t work out.’

‘Didn’t work out?’

‘It was with another trainee before debut,’ he explained, and Jisung leaned against his palm, listening intently. ‘Before I’d met you.’

Jisung’s heart jumped at the implications behind that last part, but he willed it to settle. 

‘We got pretty far, but right before we went all the way, I kind of just realised I wasn’t into it,’ Minho continued. ‘Just wasn’t really ready for it, and wasn’t really into the person.’

Jisung hummed. 

‘So why are you a virgin?’

‘I never said I was a virgin,’ Jisung said, somewhat glad the neon glow of the fairy lights hid the pink that rose to his cheeks. Minho served him one of those looks, one of those doubtful ones, and Jisung huffed. ‘Okay, yeah, I’m a virgin, but there’s no real reason for it. It’s more like… the stars just haven’t aligned for me yet, you know? Haven’t found myself in a situation where it might happen.’

Minho raised a brow. ‘How far have you gone with someone?’

Jisung hesitated. When he spoke, it came out quiet. ‘… Kissing.’

‘What was that?’ Minho had heard it, Jisung knew. He just wanted to hear it again.

‘Kissing!’ Jisung exclaimed, burying his face into the pillows. ‘Go ahead, laugh!’ Minho did laugh. He laughed hard, and although it was at his expense, Jisung loved to hear it. He’d always loved his laugh. 

‘Okay, so your experience is nonexistent,’ Minho chuckled softly and pressed a couple of fingers to the crown of Jisung’s head, causing him to raise it and meet his eyes, ‘but what goes on up here?’

‘You want to know my kinks.’

‘You have a vivid imagination, Han Jisung. You can’t be all vanilla.’

Jisung reached into the bowl of Oreos beside him and pressed one to his lips, chewing the edge of the cookie slowly. ‘I bet you’re into cat ears and shit.’

‘We’re not talking about me,’ Minho replied simply.

‘But are you?’

Jisung couldn’t see it, but he liked to think that Minho flushed red under the purple lights as he averted his eyes.

‘I won’t kink shame,’ Jisung scoffed, biting off half of the Oreo and breaking into a smug grin. ‘I can see the appeal. I think I’d look pretty hot in some cat ears.’

And Jisung liked to think Minho imagined it, even if all he did was hum doubtfully in response.

‘What would Han Jisung be into?’ Minho mused, eyes sweeping over him. He seemed to think for a moment. ‘I think he’d like to feel small.’

He didn’t have a witty reply to that. He just listened, gut twisting at the evil glint in Minho’s eyes.

‘I think,’ Minho’s voice slowed, ‘Han Jisung would like to feel tiny. He wears his big boy boots, and he works out to get bigger, but I think if someone leaned over him, or overpowered him, and made him feel all small, he’d break.’

Jisung chewed on his Oreo, never breaking eye contact, even as his face grew hot. Minho was cruel.

He poked Minho’s cheek. ‘Who knows?’

Minho poked his cheek back. 

Jisung poked Minho’s nose.

Minho poked his nose back.

Jisung poked Minho’s neck, but before the older got the chance to return the poke, Jisung began to tickle him, giggling at how he squeaked and reflexively bunched his shoulders to his ears to escape it. 

‘No!’ Jisung squealed as Minho tickled him back, writhing with the biggest smile, digging his fingers deeper into Minho's neck in an attempt to win what was now a tickle fight. Their laughter filled the fort, loud and unmindful of the outside world. 

Minho moved his hands to tickle his ribs and Jisung gave up, throwing his head back and clutching the fabric of Minho's shirt between his fingers. He was out of breath, heaving with laughter. ‘I yield! I yield! I surrender! Please!’

The tickling stopped, and as the laughter died down, the two simply stared at one another.

Jisung’s heart swelled at the sight of the Minho under the brilliance of the fairy lights — his skin adorned with what looked like clusters of purple stars due to the shapes of the bulbs, and his body nestled softly into the messy pile of their sheets. His hair a mess from their tickle fight just a moment prior, sticking up in all sorts of silly ways that made Jisung let out a giggle and reach his hand up to ruffle it back into place. Jisung swore the other boy could hear the sound of his heartbeat, thrumming achingly hard in his chest, but he didn’t say anything; neither of them did, not even when Jisung began to swear he could hear Minho’s, too.

They sat in a sweet silence, the playlist that echoed from Jisung’s phone reducing to white noise as his eyes glazed over all of Minho’s features. His stare, filled with an unreadable emotion; his skin irradiated with those pretty, purple lights, his lips… plump, and pink, and curled up by the corners in that endearing, cat-like way.

 _God_ , he wanted to kiss them.

He’d wanted to kiss them for so long.

_Fuck it._

To hell with luck.

Without much more thought, his mind whirring with that gorgeous imagery and the thump of his heartbeat louder than his reasoning, he leaned in and softly, tenderly, pressed his lips to Minho’s. It was as if fireworks set off within his chest the second he kissed him, a moment of clarity — it felt so right, his lips so soft, so _perfect_. Like the arcade, like those pillow forts he’d made all those years ago, like home.

But when he pulled back, Minho’s eyes were wide open, lips parted as if to say something yet not knowing what. Shock. Not a good reaction to a kiss, Jisung was sure.

Jisung blinked a few times, then leaned further back, panic building in his gut. He missed the target. He prayed to any god who would listen that he could revoke his _to hell with luck_ from just a moment prior. ‘Oh, oh my god, shit, I’m sorry, I’ll just—’

His words were interrupted as Minho pulled him in and kissed him again, a slightly deeper kiss this time, and albeit Jisung was confused, so confused, he quickly found himself kissing him back. Conscious of his own lack of experience in the kissing department, as well as every other department, really, he let Minho lead him through it, following his movements and melting against him. He tasted like gummy bears and coffee. Jisung could get used to it. He hoped he would.

‘Was just surprised that you were the first one to make a move, sorry,’ Minho chuckled into him quietly.

 _Holy_ _shit_. He let the realisation overcome him. He was _kissing Lee Minho._ Minho’s lips were up against his, and Minho had kissed him, and Minho wanted this. Jisung felt a weight be lifted from his shoulders, a weight he hadn’t even realised was there. Relief. So much relief.

Jisung paused the kiss briefly, tingly lips lingering warm against Minho’s. A thousand questions flitted through his mind. He wanted to ask him what he thought of him, whether his heart bubbled in his chest when he saw Jisung like his own did for Minho, whether he reciprocated those painful, fluttery feelings that Jisung had silently suffered with for years. Whether he _loved him back_. 

But Jisung stared up into those neon-lit eyes of his, those eyes which at this moment were so full of _Jisung_ , both at the surface and deep inside, and he decided against asking. Maybe he would let himself guess Minho’s answer, because maybe he’d already known it for a long time. Maybe he would let himself be selfish and accept it.

When their lips joined once more, Minho began to lean over him, slowly pushing him down, and Jisung let it happen. His heart raced as he climbed over his body and encompassed him beneath. Jisung had to stifle a sound at the thought of how small it made him feel; moaning during a middle school level kiss wouldn’t have been his proudest moment.

‘Is tongue okay?’ Minho murmured. Warm, chocolate scented breath fanned over Jisung’s senses and he forgot how to think for a moment, but eventually found it in him to nod.

‘I, uh… just a warning, I’ve only kissed one person with tongue before, and, uh, I don’t think I was very good, so,’ Jisung muttered, immediately reprimanding himself for how stupid he sounded. ‘I just mean, so you… don’t get disappointed, or something.’

Minho giggled against his lips. ‘I think we’ve already established you’re a raging virgin, Sungie.’ Jisung felt his cheeks heat at that. ‘It’s okay. Just follow what I do and you’ll be an expert in no time.’

‘Are you calling yourself an expert?’

‘Compared to a raging virgin, maybe,’ Minho laughed, then met his lips again. A shiver fluttered across Jisung’s skin as one of his hands moved down to hold his waist through his shirt while he kissed him, his touch gentle, caring. ‘Part your lips for me.’

Jisung obeyed, and Minho went in with his tongue, at first only swiping it across his bottom lip, a sort of test lick that made the younger feel all sorts of tingly, before beginning to lick shallowly into his mouth. His tongue was warm, wet, and although it all felt a little weird, he quickly became addicted to the sensation, linking his own tongue with Minho’s and finding the confidence to loop his arms around his neck to pull him closer. It was a little sloppy, all fingers and thumbs and much slower than people usually kissed in movies or the porn that he watched, but it was comfortable. Safe. He trusted Minho.

He let out a soft gasp as Minho took his bottom lip in his teeth and tugged lightly — light enough not to hurt, but hard enough to send a wave of arousal downward. His tongue mirrored Minho’s movements, the two boys searching each other’s mouths crudely and with little strategy. When Minho moved faster, Jisung moved faster. An awkward sort of clockwork with cogs that fit together like puzzle pieces but were so new and unworn and needed time to break each other in; it moved fast, their tongues, lips and skin moulding and memorising one another, connecting. 

And although they spent a long time like this, with Jisung’s arms hugging Minho’s neck and their mouths working delightfully clumsily, at least a couple of songs worth of time, Jisung still felt a little disappointed when Minho detached his lips from him, even if to progress with… whatever they were doing. Kissing Minho was nice, so unbelievably nice that his mushy mind could hardly think of the words to describe it. He wished he could kiss him to the end of time. 

Hand still glued to Jisung’s waist, Minho wandered his head down and pressed a delicate open-mouthed kiss to his jaw, then another, peppering them tenderly over his sensitive skin. While their kiss had reached a point of passion, intensity, this was soft, intimate. Affectionate; as if Minho was taking the time to worship his body with soft kisses and touches. That was what Jisung let himself believe, anyway, and in pursuit of more of this silent praise, he tilted his head aside to allow the older more access to his neck. 

Minho got the hint, travelling further down the expanse of his skin, nose tickling his neck as he moved and urging a breathy giggle from Jisung. The feather-light kisses continued, sporadically over his neck and all the way down to his collarbone, and then he felt Minho’s tongue on him, licking stripes over the places that made him squirm. Teeth brushing briefly, not digging down, just teasing. 

‘No… marks,’ Jisung said shyly, hands falling to cling to the pillows underneath him. ‘Don’t want the others to see.’ 

Of course, they’d tease him, but they’d also connect the dots as to who gave them to him, and he didn’t really feel like going through such an embarrassing conversation. He’d also have to clarify what type of relationship they were in… and until he knew that answer himself, he decided he’d keep this from the others. Their little secret.

‘What about on your chest?’

A rush of heat passed through him at the pure thought. His chest covered in marks that only he and Minho could know about… he supposed that yes, he did quite like the sound of that. ‘Okay.’

‘Can I take your shirt off?’ Minho’s words sent Jisung’s head fizzing with warmth as he nodded, teeth chewing down on his bottom lip nervously. They’d seen each other shirtless, even without pants more times than he could count, but this would be different — raw, and vulnerable, and scary.

And it was all of those things, every moment that Minho pulled his shirt up his stomach, his chest, past his head, the cool air sharply hitting his burning skin, all the way up to when Minho was dedicating a few seconds to inspect his bare torso. Raw. Vulnerable. Scary. 

But it was also exciting. Intoxicating. _Hot_. 

He trusted Minho. 

One of Minho’s thumbs traced intricate patterns along the skin of Jisung’s ribs as he lowered himself down and planted a kiss just underneath his collarbone. A portion of Jisung’s tension seemed to melt away under that reassuring touch of his thumb against him; Minho always knew how to calm him down, always knew when he needed calming down. They really were connected by some sort of red string of fate, Jisung liked to think, however sappy and silly it was — red string or not, though, it was clear that he and Minho knew each other better than any other, and he cherished that feeling of being understood.

Minho kissed lower, stopping at some point between his right collarbone and nipple. He sucked down with ambition, swiping his tongue over the patch of honey skin, and Jisung’s head fell back, his breath picking up with every small bite and suck. It wasn’t long before Minho was shifting to another point nearby and repeating, stitching sections of inevitable bruises into the fabric of his chest; Jisung had his fingers laced through Minho’s hair, petting fondly as he marked him up. 

Minho’s tongue slipped over one of Jisung’s nipples and the younger’s back arched, hands curling into brunette locks and tugging with fervour. It was one thing to touch his nipples with his own hands to the thought of Minho, and a whole other to feel Minho’s tongue on them, flicking, swirling, teasing. Breathlessly, Jisung mumbled a, ‘that feels good,’ and Minho planted a kiss on the bud, likely in acknowledgment. 

That hand which had been caressing his ribs moved to rub his other nipple, before suddenly pinching, though not too hard, and Jisung jerked underneath him with a gasp. It stung where he had pinched — a good sort of sting that left the skin more sensitive, that sent a ripple of shivers across his chest when Minho rubbed his thumb over it again. 

He continued to rub and pinch his nipples as he went back to littering his skin with more marks, gifting attention to every inch of him and drinking up every small sound from the younger man.

Jisung wondered how Minho saw him as the older leaned back a little to seemingly admire his handiwork — did he think he looked pretty like this? As he thumbed the marks, did he also think they looked like little red and purple planets mottled amongst the dancing stars on his chest? Was his mind as full of Jisung as Jisung’s was of Minho?

And as if he’d read his mind, as he always seemed to do, Minho mused an absentminded, ‘you’re so perfect.’ Jisung’s heart was launched into overdrive.

He liked him. He liked him. He really liked him. He loved him. And he didn’t need to say it, because they were then kissing once again, eyes narrowly peeked open, boring into one another and connecting their thoughts. Minho smiled against his lips. He didn’t need to say it, because Minho knew.

In favour of switching up the position, and to give his likely aching arms a break from leaning against the blankets, Minho slowly moved back and pulled Jisung into his lap. Jisung let his legs comfortably straddle either side of Minho’s thighs, hands resting against his clothed chest.

‘Shirt,’ Jisung mumbled in-between kisses, tugging down at the collar of Minho’s shirt with one finger.

‘What about it?’ Minho teased, then giggled after watching Jisung furrow his brow. ‘Go ahead.’

So he did, pulling Minho’s shirt up and over his head and tossing it somewhere into the mountain of blankets. He traced his fingertips across his chest, briefly passing over his nipples and settling at his soft tummy. Jisung’s was far more toned, firmer to the touch with visible ab lines, whereas Minho’s was the opposite, and in Jisung’s opinion, was lovely to run his fingers over and watch the skin pillow out underneath them when he applied a little pressure. 

Jisung moved his hands to his neck and kissed his cheek, kissed his acne scars, kissed his prominent cheek bone. His ear, the lobe, his jaw. Each kiss lingered for a few seconds; he wanted to appreciate every part of him. And he smelled good, so good, like lit floral candles and comfort, unique and one of a kind, just as how Minho was in every way. 

He liked how different they were. Minho was a little pudgier, a little squishier, had these thick limbs yet defined bone structure. Jisung was small, and toned, his limbs like sticks with muscle here and there. Minho thought simply, and went with the flow of things. Jisung had a beautiful monster of a brain. 

He pressed a few more light kisses to his shoulder and collarbone while Minho ran his hands over the notches of the younger’s spine, down and down until they settled just above the waistband of his shorts. Further down, until Jisung could feel his palms rest against his ass through the fabric. He squeezed lightly and Jisung sighed against him, his hips stuttering forward and grinding against Minho.

The two froze for just a moment, gazes connecting, before roughly joining their lips — this kiss was deep, and fast, and messy, much deeper and faster and messier than any of the others, as if that small movement of Minho’s hands had hurled a mass of fuel wood into their small, wholesome flame. Jisung rocked his hips into Minho’s, gasping into him and pressing their chests flush. The bruises on his skin prickled at the friction. It felt good. It felt so good.

Minho gripped the cheeks of his ass with his hands, their tongues swirling and lapping, pouring every feeling, every message into one another’s mouths with the hopes the other would understand. And they did. 

Jisung’s chest was tight with joy, suffocating in the best way possible. To feel Minho’s lips against his, to feel his heart drum against his chest as hard and quick as his own inside of it, he was sure he’d won his own sort of personal lottery. 

He clutched on to him. He wanted to keep this feeling forever. He wanted to keep all of this forever: the warmth under the fabric roof of the pillow fort; the patter of the rain against the window panes; the drowned out sound of a Park Hyo Shin song murmuring from Jisung’s phone underneath the ruffled pile of blankets; the purple glow of the children’s fairy lights that managed to turn all of their physical vices into virtues. It would all be torn down in a few hours, this little world they’d made for themselves, and the universe would soon forget it, so for now they kissed, and their hands etched essays of endearment where they roamed, and they whispered each other’s names against swollen lips. 

They’d make the universe wait to take this away.

Jisung propped himself up onto his knees to let Minho tug his shorts down by the waistband, and after a fiddly shuffle of getting one leg out at a time, he nestled himself back into his lap, hips reuniting. Minho ghosted his thumb over the front of his Doraemon boxers, over the small, wet patch of desperation that had already seeped through; it traced circles, teasing and feather-light, and Jisung bucked into the touch. He was straining against his boxers, _that_ part of him, twitching and meeting Minho’s thumb like a pet nosing its owner’s hand. 

‘Minho,’ he breathed, mind pooling with want.

When Minho curled his fingers under the band of his boxers and looked to him for affirmation, all Jisung had to do was nod, and those fingers breached past it, hiking it down and settling the garment around his thighs. Jisung pursed his lips. Raw. Vulnerable. Scary. 

Minho gently kissed his cheek, the corner of his mouth, his taut lips. Reassurance. Minho knew him all too well.

Jisung bit back a moan as he felt Minho slowly wrap a hand around his cock. His palm was cool against it, a sort of relief after so much warmth, and his motions were slow. He thumbed the tip, other fingers massaging his nipples and ribs, lips moving to kiss the mole on his cheek. His voice was like silk in his ear, ‘Don’t hold back. It’s just us.’

 _Just us._ Just them. Just Minho and Jisung. He liked the sound of that, and he took his advice, allowing himself to gasp a little louder, because it was _just them_ , and no one else, nothing else, could come in between them right now.

He began to pump his cock, his hand cutely small against its less than modest size. His thumb dug into a particularly sensitive spot and Jisung grinded down into his lap, whimpering against his ear. ‘There…’

‘Feels good?’ Minho asked him, and he nodded against his cheek, noises growing louder as he paid more attention to that spot. He dragged the thumb of his nail lightly over it, pushed into it with his thumb pad, jerked the rest of his cock with his other fingers. ‘You sound so lovely— _fuck_ ,’ he groaned at a well-angled grind of Jisung’s hips against him and held his waist tight.

‘Feels good?’ Jisung mocked breathlessly. Minho pressed hard into that sensitive spot and he let out a strange mixture of a moan and a giggle. 

Jisung moved one hand down to palm at Minho’s sweatpants as he rolled his hips, kissing him roughly.

‘ _Jisung_ ,’ he gasped lowly, tugging at his bottom lip with his teeth. ‘Hold on, let me…’

Minho pulled away and lowered Jisung to rest on his back against the sheets, straddling his legs and jerking him off slowly. He peeled his sweatpants from his own legs, climbed out of them and chucked them aside. Jisung traced his thighs with brave thumbs, chest vibrating with shaking breaths. He loved his thighs, loved how large they were, how they were so filled out with muscle and chub in all the right places. He wanted to mark them up, cover his thighs in little planets like Minho had done to his chest.

He could see the outline of his cock in his boxers, protruding and begging to be freed. Continuing his brave streak, his fingers slid up to where the fabric covered it, slid up the length of it and down, rubbing. He revelled in the pleasured sigh that he pulled from the older. 

‘I jerked off earlier.’ Jisung was surprised by his own sudden honesty. ‘In the bathroom.’

‘Oh?’ Minho’s eyes widened. He seemed equally surprised. 

‘And, uh, someone… _Chan_ walked in before I could… finish.’

‘…So what I’m hearing,’ Minho said slowly, ‘is that _this_ ,’ he broke into a grin and squeezed the top of his cock with force, ‘is feeling a little desperate, hmm?’

‘ _Minho_ ,’ Jisung whined, hips wriggling. ‘You _suck_.’

‘Oh, you want me to suck it?’

Jisung knew he was joking, but the question had him nibbling down on his bottom lip and looking up at him through fluttering eyelids. He certainly wouldn’t be opposed to it.

‘Cute,’ the older chuckled, swiping his thumb over that tense bottom lip. Jisung let his jaw fall slack, let his mouth drop open, and Minho pushed his thumb inside and against his tongue. He sucked it, licking it from the inside and nestling his lips around it with a hum that sent vibrations through Minho’s finger. ‘So fucking cute.’

Jisung whimpered with hot cheeks, pouting against the tip of his thumb. ‘Stop it.’

‘Then stop being so cute,’ Minho responded, removing his thumb from his lips and shuffling down Jisung’s body. He left soft kisses down his chest, his toned abs, his tummy which rose and fell with quivering breaths. His navel, the tops of his thighs, his hip bone. Jisung appreciated the kisses, but his body protested, hips swivelling and cock twitching; a silent plea for more that Minho ignored in favour of teasing him.

After a couple of shameful whines and futile thrusts up into the empty air, Minho seemed to take pity on him, and finally planted a kiss onto the tip of his cock. Tongue emerging, he licked a stripe up the shaft and peeked up at Jisung with eyes the younger had never quite seen before, though had imagined umpteenths of times in his fantasies — that look of hunger, and desperation, and _want._ Jisung let his eyes fall shut. He was going to come immediately if he stared at that expression any longer.

His fingers dug deep into the pillows beside his own head as he felt Minho’s tongue explore his cock, felt his warm breath against his tummy, felt his hands grip at his hips with a force that sent his mind fizzing. He was embarrassingly sensitive, his voice coming out in weak mewls and gasps, his hips bucking up, his gut churning with pleasure, and when Minho began to take him past his lips and into his mouth, he could only moan louder, writhe harder.

Minho took him as far as he could handle, his hand working any of his cock that he couldn’t quite reach. He bobbed his lips up and down the length and Jisung wiggled and lifted his hips with a soft whine. Minho’s hands gripped harder, keeping him in place. ‘Minho, _Minho_ ,’ a squeak in response to Minho humming around his cock, a shiver passing in waves across the whole of his body, ‘feels good, gonna… I’m close, feels too good…’

His bottom half jerked and washed over with that overwhelming rise of ecstasy, pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

Minho popped off of his dick.

‘No! no, no—’ Jisung let out somewhat of a dry sob, thrashing his legs from underneath Minho. His poor cock had been denied orgasm for the _second_ time today; it rested red and twitchy against his tummy, dribbling precum, and he was sure that if Minho just wrapped his hand around it he’d climax. ‘So close, _please_ just—’

Minho grazed his thumb over the tip and Jisung practically squealed. ‘I _could_ finish you off with my mouth, but…’ 

‘… But?’

‘I mean, how far do we want to…?’

His words hit Jisung hard. 

Jisung was _certain_ he wanted his first to be Minho, was certain he wanted to give all of himself to him, but… what if he was making the wrong choice? What if he’d built a fantasy in his head of Minho loving him, and this was all just a quick fling? What if it wasn’t his time for the stars to align?

The few seconds that he pondered his words felt like hours. His brain stung. The corners of his eyes stung. The question was so loud. 

_Did he want to have sex with Minho?_

He looked down at the man who straddled his legs, whose dishevelled hair was gleaming with waltzing stars, whose cheeks would burn if he touched them, whose thumbs were rubbing circles of reassurance into the skin of his hips. Minho, whose chocolate eyes were filled with only fondness for Jisung. He let himself mute the bickering devil and angel on his shoulders and took a second to reach deep into his core.

_Yes, he did. He really did._

It didn’t need to be any more complicated than that. 

He’d wanted this for so long. It would be raw, and vulnerable, and scary, but it would be with _Minho_ , who made his world spin slower and his heart so warm. It was a no-brainer. It was simple. 

He would let the stars align, because maybe he’d been forcing them apart for too long.

Jisung gazed at him through half-lidded eyes, heart racing a million miles an hour. ‘I have lube.’

‘I have condoms.’

A simple exchange, despite Jisung’s small internal crisis, though that was all the two needed before they were clambering out of the fort and rushing to their rooms on wobbly legs. The outside air was cold, littering Jisung’s poor naked body with goosebumps as his hands frantically scrambled through his bedside drawer. 

‘Fuck, it’s _freezing_!’ Jisung complained, hopping between socked feet to warm his body up. He reached into the back of the drawer and finally found the bottle, not caring to shut it before he was scurrying back to the pillow fort. Minho had already made it back, so Jisung shuffled up beside him, throwing the bottle somewhere into the blankets. He let out a relieved sigh as Minho climbed back over him and straddled his legs once more.

‘That better?’ Minho asked, cupping Jisung’s face with one hand. It was warm. Jisung nuzzled into it.

‘Much better.’ He leaned up to kiss him softly, just taking in his body heat. ‘So, uh…’

‘So, uh…’ Minho mocked him against his lips with a laugh, stroking his cheek. ‘Which way would you rather go? Or if you don’t care, we could play rock paper scissors to work it out.’

‘Whenever I imagine it, I always see myself being on the bottom, so…’ His whole body lit on fire upon noticing Minho’s smug grin. ‘Not… not that I’ve thought about it. I… well, maybe a few times, but… no, I mean…’

‘I’ve thought about it,’ Minho said bluntly, and Jisung almost wanted the blankets to eat him up so the other man couldn’t see how flustered his words made him. Minho had thought about it. Minho had thought about _fucking him_ . Minho had likely _gotten off_ to the thought of fucking him. Jisung felt a little lightheaded. ‘So you’d rather bottom?’

‘I think so. This time, at least.’ He let out a shaky breath after feeling Minho’s hands find home at his hips again. ‘If that’s okay with you.’

Minho pulled him into yet another kiss. ‘Very okay.’ He hopped off of his thighs and pursed his lips with uncertainty. ‘Could you… uh… spread your legs?’

They giggled at Minho’s awkwardness, and Jisung reluctantly spread them apart, one hand covering his face to shield the embarrassment flushed across it. He was completely splayed out underneath him, everything vulnerable, on display for him to see and touch. He trusted Minho.

The older man situated himself between his legs and kissed him gently, light as a feather, a small reassurance for the both of them, before fumbling for the lube in the sheets. It took him a second, a long second, Jisung’s disregard for the placement of the bottle in his pursuit of warmth not serving to be very helpful, but he eventually found it and scooted closer. 

Before he bothered with the lube, he traced at the entrance of his hole, just looking, just observing how it fluttered against his thumb. Jisung couldn’t see anything; he could only shiver under the dry touch, could only look into his deep, wondrous eyes that scoped every part of him. 

‘Do you know what you’re doing?’ He asked after a moment, pulling Minho back from his thoughts.

‘No, not really.’ 

‘Sexy.’

‘Well, have you… fingered yourself before?’ Minho likely knew the answer already, as he uncapped the bottle and lathered a couple of fingers, because the container was clearly not full, but Jisung favoured the unnecessary conversation over the silence. He usually liked the quiet, but right now, Minho’s voice was doing wonders. 

He watched as his face contorted with an, _is this enough_? sort of look, and after another moment of thought, he squeezed a little more on for good measure. 

‘A couple of times,’ Jisung answered quietly, voice weak at the anticipation of Minho’s fingers entering him. His eyes fell shut and he let out a shaky exhale as the older pressed a cool, lube-coated fingertip to his rim, rubbing gently. ‘But I don’t know how to make it feel really good.’

‘Guess we’ll figure it out together.’ Minho seemed to wait until Jisung poised himself and steadied his breathing, before letting his finger breach past the ring of muscle. The lube was cold against his warm insides, though the actual friction of Minho’s finger was pleasant. He sighed softly and clutched at the sheets beneath him, hugging his pig plushie with one arm as Minho settled his finger halfway inside him. ‘You okay? Can I add another one?’

Jisung nodded perhaps a little too fervently, pulling a small giggle from Minho, and then there was another finger pressing into him, the stretch a little less forgiving this time — it wasn’t painful, more of a very subtle sting if anything, but he could feel his hole clamping tightly around the digits in a way that screamed _I’m a virgin._ Minho’s fingers were a little thicker than his own, though a little shorter, so it took a moment to relax around them, to get used to how far they stretched him out.

‘Have you ever done it?’ 

‘Fingered myself?’ Minho clarified. Jisung nodded again. ‘No, but that trainee I mentioned earlier did it to me. It was his first time, and neither of us really knew what was going on, so I didn’t feel much.’

Jisung responded with a thoughtful hum.

Once he’d relaxed, Minho slowly pushed his fingers further inside, scissoring them slightly, and eventually paused when he reached the knuckle. 

‘Everything okay, sweetheart?’ Minho asked, and although the pet name seemed to be a subconscious addition, something he might not have even noticed he’d said, Jisung found himself mewling in response to it, his heart melting and cock twitching. God, the effect he had on him.

‘Yeah,’ Jisung breathed, a small moan falling past his lips as Minho pulled back with his fingers, the tips curved inward and brushing against him sweetly. He began to fuck them into him, now, pushing back in and pulling out, curved in that oh so delightful way and continuing to scissor him open. It felt good _—_ a little foreign, and definitely not enough to make him come, but _good_ , and it had him arching against the sheets and pillows, purring strings of quiet, soft sounds. ‘“Don’t know what I’m doing,” my _ass…_ ’

‘It’s a wonder what Wikihow will teach you,’ Minho hummed, urging a snort out of Jisung. ‘And if Wikihow is right, there should be…’

It took a few moments, any silence filled with chuckles as Minho seemed to feel around inside him, pushing his fingers past his rim and curving them upward at different points, but when he finally found it… holy _shit._

Jisung practically _screamed._

It was unlike anything he’d ever felt before — a wave of intense pleasure that sent electricity and heat through his body, that sent him squirming underneath Minho. The older boy repeated the movement and Jisung screamed again, his mind fuzzy as he clenched tightly around his fingers.

Jisung had to be honest: those couple of times he’d fingered himself in the past, he’d attempted to find his prostate, though always had little luck with it. Maybe it had been because he didn’t know where it was, or because he just couldn’t do it by himself, but he’d never come _close_ to feeling this good, and he could feel himself becoming addicted, _intoxicated_ by the pleasure. He felt as though he were already close to coming, almost as if he were about to pee, felt that familiar rise in his tummy, though all his cock had to give was a few beads of precum across his navel, refusing to release just yet.

Minho’s fingers slowly rubbed over that sweet bundle of nerves. Light and gentle. ‘How does it feel, baby?’ The new pet name only served to further turn Jisung’s brain to mush. 

‘G… good, feels good, i—’ a particularly harsh press against his prostate that compelled him to throw his head back with a filthy moan, ‘it feels _amazing,_ Min…’

Minho must have noticed the way that Jisung’s thighs were threatening to squeeze together, because he was soon slipping his free hand between them and lightly pushing them apart. ‘Keep your legs open for me, okay?’ _For him._

With shaking hands, Jisung hooked his fingers under his thighs and spread them shyly. It was more than embarrassing to be so exposed like this, with his whole body surrendered to Minho’s gaze and touch, though the constant ringing of his words, _‘you’re so perfect’,_ in his mind seemed to soften the insecurities, even just a little. 

Minho moved to lean over him again as he moved his fingers in and out of Jisung, brushing against _that_ spot with every thrust, and pulled him into a wet kiss. Their tongues meshed messily, inexpertly, forcing drool to slip past the corner of Jisung’s lips and be swallowed by the pillows below them. Jisung moaned into his mouth, becoming impossibly louder as Minho slipped a third finger inside him. This one stung a little, though the pressure against his prostate was an incredible distraction. 

And as if Jisung couldn’t get more needy, he could feel Minho’s clothed, hard cock brushing against his sensitive skin from where he leaned over him — he found himself contracting around his fingers, wanting more, wanting to be filled to the brim with whatever Minho was willing to give him. 

‘ _Minho_ ,’ Jisung breathed against him, his legs writhing underneath his own hold. His eyelids slipped open for just a moment as they took a brief break from the kiss, eyes gazing up into Minho’s star-stippled ones. ‘I think I’m ready.’

‘Are you sure?’ He didn’t mean it physically, Jisung knew. 

He nodded, flashing a small smile. ‘Yeah. Are you?’

Minho always seemed so cool-headed, always seemed so difficult to work out, but at this moment, as he returned the smile and let go a long-awaited breath of relief, he could see all of him. ‘Yeah.’

Jisung glanced down and manoeuvred his hands to sit at the waistband of Minho’s boxers, heart thumping so loud he was almost sure the neighbours could have heard it if not for the rain. His fingers curled underneath and tugged downward, freeing his cock. Mouth salivating, hips wiggling, heart full. He’d never wanted anything more in his entire life. Words couldn’t describe how sure he was.

Unable to help himself, he let his hand shyly take hold of it. He bobbed his fist over the length of his cock, admiring every ridge of the veins, every texture of it under his palm. It was shorter than his — actually, similarly to their fingers, it was also a little thicker, and Jisung fell immediately in love with it. And when Minho groaned, quiet and under his breath but reaching Jisung’s ears like music, he fell in love with those sounds, too. It was a challenge to not fall in love with every part of Minho.

‘I want to suck yours,’ Jisung said with little thought, then tuned into his own words and shyly averted his eyes. ‘Maybe not today, but…’

‘Next time,’ Minho humoured him, and Jisung’s heart leaped. Minho wanted a next time. Desperately, so desperately wanting that too, the younger flashed him a small smile and a nod.

When Minho attempted to remove his fingers, Jisung squeezed around them with a whine. He knew what they were being replaced with, but he couldn’t help but despise the anticipated empty feeling. 

‘Baby, baby,’ Minho muttered, wearing an amused grin, ‘do you want my fingers or my cock?’

Jisung pouted. ‘Don’t make me say it.’

Minho slid his fingers out of him and the younger whimpered, clenching around nothing. ‘Say it.’

‘Minho, _God_ ,’ Jisung complained with a frustrated laugh. ‘Your cock. F… fuck me.’

‘Magic word?’ 

A frown from Jisung. He watched as Minho ripped open a condom and slid it down his cock, coating it with another lather of lube, then gasped upon feeling the tip press against his hole.

‘I’m not hearing the magic word.’

‘No,’ he whined behind his hand, ‘no, too embarrassing.’

Minho threatened to shuffle backward and Jisung scrambled to wrap his arms around his neck, keeping him in place.

‘Please,’ he said, the word on the margin of a whisper, far too desperate of a sound for his liking. Minho tapped the lobe of his own ear with a mocking grin, his cock so nearly inside of Jisung that all it would take was the tiniest push. Jisung hugged his neck tightly, pressed his lips to his ear and panted, ‘please fuck me… I’ve been waiting for _so long_.’

They shared another soft, soft kiss, so much louder than words, and then Minho was pushing into him, one hand stitched to Jisung’s hip and the other nestled into the blankets where his forearm held his weight. Jisung nuzzled into his neck with a choked moan. Tummy packed with butterflies; heart light as a cloud; brain the emptiest he’d ever heard it. He liked this. He loved this. He loved him.

When he pushed in all the way, Jisung swore he saw stars; not just the ones lining the blanket roof of the fort, or the ones reflecting from Minho’s eyes, or cheeks, or messy locks of hair, but ones on the insides of his eyelids, sending him to oblivion. Their hips were snug against each other, a perfect fit much like everything else. Everything — their lips, their hands, their hips, their hearts, connected by red strings, pulling them closer.

‘Can I move—’

‘ _Please,_ ’ Jisung begged, the word coming to him more easily now, as he attempted to rock down onto him, to push more of Minho inside him, ‘move, please.’

So he did, pulling back, not all the way, before sliding back inside him. The angle was less than desirable, the thickness and fullness being the bulk of reason for Jisung’s quivering body and breathy whimpers. Minho was focused on finding a rhythm more than anything, fucking into him just a little faster, and angle be damned, it felt _good_ just to feel him against him, to feel him _inside_ him. He mewled his name, hands moving to clutch at his back and digging tiny crescents into the skin with his nails. Like moons in the galaxies of fairy lights.

‘I don’t think I’m going to last that long,’ Minho laughed breathlessly in his ear.

An equally breathless laugh from Jisung. ‘Me neither.’

He still wasn’t going incredibly fast, his hips meeting the backs of his thighs at a comfortable pace, but it was all so overwhelming. _Minho was inside of him. Minho was fucking him._ His legs shook and toes curled. _Oh, god, Minho took his virginity, and he took Minho’s, and they were having sex._ His eyes squeezed shut. _Oh, god, he’d wanted this for so long._ He whined out, so tightly glued to him, legs looping around his waist. 

He felt Minho’s fingers in his hair and lips on his burning chest. ‘You doing okay?’

Jisung nodded hard. ‘You?’

‘Amazing. You feel amazing. You’re amazing.’ Minho’s tongue found one of his nipples as he fucked into him, one hand reaching to rub the other. He took the bud between his teeth, biting so gently, and Jisung bucked his hips upward with a gasp. ‘You have the most precious reactions, baby.’

He shook his head, hips jerking up once again at another soft bite of his nipple. 

‘I want to make you feel so good,’ Minho murmured, licking at the now achingly sensitive bud and sending a jolt through Jisung’s body. ‘I want to make you squirm, and scream, and I want to watch you get all flustered when the others ask why you’re struggling to walk tomorrow.’

Jisung had never felt so hot in his life, his whole face burning with embarrassment, and he was sure that Minho must have felt the way his hole clenched at his words. ‘Want that so bad, please…’ He reluctantly pulled back from his neck to meet his eyes. They were so glossy, and so full of him. He swallowed hard. ‘Minho?’

‘Yeah?’ 

‘Are we able to, uh… can we hit _that_ spot with your…’ 

‘I think so,’ Minho replied, a shake in his voice though nowhere near as intense as the one in Jisung’s, ‘but I’ll have to sit up a little.’

Jisung nodded. 

‘Baby, you’ll need to let go of me,’ the older chuckled.

‘Ah— sorry,’ he mumbled with a tiny squeak, shifting his hands from Minho’s back to rest on the “floor” that was blankets and pillows. 

Minho continued to giggle at him as he sat up on his knees and took Jisung’s thighs into his hands. ‘Did I mention how cute you are?’

‘Too many times,’ Jisung whined.

‘Doesn’t sound like enough to me,’ Minho hummed, fucking into him slowly. Jisung just served him a pout.

There was a lot of shuffling, then, as Minho slightly switched up the position a few times; Jisung did his own fair share of shifting, moving his hips and arching his back and doing as Minho requested of him. He pumped his own cock lazily to keep it from softening. ‘Are you sure that—’

Minho suddenly lifted his hips into the air by his thighs and knocked his words out of him, replacing them with a high-pitched wail. Not only had he found it, his _whole bottom half_ was being _held_ in the _air_ by Minho’s _arms_ , seemingly with ease, and _fuck_ , he felt _tiny_.

He felt his brain melt in his skull. He grasped the sheets. Minho inched forward inside him, hardly a thrust, and he wailed once more, his cock throbbing on his belly. He seemed to enjoy Jisung’s reactions, so he continued these small movements inside him, brushing the tip of his cock closely toward his prostate, lightly massaging, just as his fingers had done earlier. Jisung writhed in the air and Minho gripped his thighs harder. It was so good. It felt so good. He wanted to vocalise it, but every time he opened his mouth, he could only let out another pathetic moan.

Minho had no idea what he was doing; it was clear in the way his brow furrowed and eyes flitted around nervously at each of his movements to check how Jisung was feeling. It was all a little awkward at times, a lot of fumbling with some trial and error, and he was sure Minho’s methods were less than conventional, but they fit together so perfectly that everything seemed to work out.

‘Faster,’ was the first thing that Jisung could manage to get out, in the tiniest of voices. ‘Faster, please.’

Lowering him a margin so he wouldn’t hit his prostate dead-on, though would still brush against it, Minho began to fuck into him faster. Jisung had never heard his voice come out so whiny, so desperate, never on his own or even when Minho had fingered him, and never had he seen or heard Minho in such a dishevelled state — he was letting out small, quick groans, his bottom lip caught between his teeth and fading a light pink. He was unravelling, and it was all Jisung’s doing. His chest swelled with pride amongst other things.

‘Yes, _yes,_ faster, _Minho_ , oh, _god_ —’ 

The older lifted one of Jisung’s thighs up higher to plant wet, open-mouthed kisses on the inside. Jisung squirmed uncontrollably with a sob.

‘“Who knows”, hmm?’ Minho grunted, and Jisung looked up at him with confusion. ‘When I predicted that feeling small turned you on, it turns out I was right.’

Jisung covered his face with his arms and wiggled around. ‘You already _knew_ that!’

A few more kisses to his inner thigh, then a laugh when Jisung kicked his legs in the air. ‘But now it’s confirmed. Han Jisung likes to feel weak and tiny.’

He whined loudly. 

‘Tiny Sungie,’ he teased. ‘Tiny baby. My baby.’ The last one had Jisung bursting into flames. His hips jerked on his cock. _His baby. His._

‘Please,’ Jisung wept, not quite sure what he was pleading for, just so aware that Minho liked to hear the word from him, and he’d say it as many times as he needed to. ‘ _Your baby…_ ’

‘ _My_ baby. My tiny, tiny baby.’ He held Jisung’s waist with both hands, squeezing a little to show his strength, and Jisung swore it pushed a little more precum out from the tip of his cock. ‘So little, I could just throw you around.’

Jisung’s breath hitched, hands clutching Minho’s where they held his thighs. ‘Fuck, _please._ ’

‘Please what?’ 

He was under Minho’s control, weak and small in his grasp. He couldn’t get enough of it. ‘Please throw me around, and fuck me harder, _shit_ —’ Minho’s hands were at his hips now, lifting and rolling Jisung’s body over his cock rather than fucking into him, ‘fuck _, fuck,_ Minho _…_ I—’

His eyes rolled back, lips locked open and loaded with a ceaseless string of choked moans. It was all upper body strength, Minho’s arms flexing and veins bulging with every drop of Jisung’s body on his cock, and he grew louder, too, with small whines placed amongst the deep groans. He sounded _divine_ , almost unbelievably so to Jisung’s mind that threatened to drift to the stars, but he held his hands tighter, grounded himself as best he could, and _oh, god,_ he really did sound that pretty. And Jisung really was the cause of it. Just the pure thought had him floating back into space.

Much to Jisung’s satisfaction, Minho fucked him like that for a long time, though Jisung was quickly losing the concept of it, of time, as he moved his small body and uttering praises and kissing his sensitive inner thighs. They basked in the echoes of their sounds against the soft walls of their self-made universe, and they interlocked fingers, and they occasionally smiled goofily when their eyes met.

‘Want it harder,’ Jisung gasped out eventually, their current position _so_ good and one they’ll need to utilise often, because they _can_ now, but being a little too slow for Jisung, who quite desperately wanted to entertain his own plea of being thrown down and fucked harder.

Minho didn’t complain, couldn’t, and dropped his hips back down to the floor. They ached a little, and would surely ache a lot more in the morning, though it would remind him of this, all of it, so he found himself looking forward to the ache. 

With one swift motion, or, rather, a sort of clunky, fiddly motion that Jisung convinced himself was swift and _really fucking hot_ in his dazed state, he was flipped over with his ass raised in the air and arms returned to the floor. Minho couldn't have been much stronger than him, their arm size rivalling one another and Jisung likely being very able to flip their position if he wanted to, but he didn’t, and he didn’t want to — he instead let out a practically pornographic sound upon being thrown down, and his mouth salivated and dribbled into the pillows, and he squirmed under Minho’s rough hold on his waist. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

He felt Minho slide back in and he quickly reconnected with heaven, rolling his hips back onto his cock.

It took a moment to find the right positioning again, but when they did, Jisung was crying out _so_ loudly at every thrust, drooling into the sheets, relaying Minho’s name. In an effort to lower his own volume, conscious that they have neighbours who could _absolutely_ hear him right now, he slid a couple of fingers into his mouth and let his moans muffle around them.

‘Sungie, sweetheart,’ Minho gasped, one hand moving down to caress his arm. ‘I want to hear you.’

‘Neighbours, they’ll hear,’ was Jisung’s response when he removed his fingers.

‘Let them hear.’ Every word from Minho’s mouth had Jisung painfully close to coming. ‘Let them hear all of your pretty sounds, angel,’ _angel, fuck, oh, god,_ ‘let them hear how good I make my baby feel.’ _His baby. ‘Scream_ for me.’ _For him._

He did. _God_ , he did, completely letting go, all of the tension slipping from his body. He was so fucking _loud_ , all for _him_ , because he was _his_ baby, _his_ angel, and a future noise complaint from the neighbours was now decidedly a more than suitable price for every second that he felt Minho slam up against his most sensitive spots, felt him learn his body with every one of those slams, every second that he screamed and begged and could let go for the first time in _so long_. 

It didn’t matter that Minho missed his prostate occasionally, didn’t matter that he would sometimes pull back a little too far and slip out of him for a moment, didn’t matter that the both of them were inexperienced. It was all so perfect, so them. 

‘Can— can you,’ Jisung choked out between sloppy thrusts, words becoming a frustrating struggle at this point, ‘pin my wrists down?’

‘Fuck, you’re so hot,’ grunted Minho, before leaning over his back, chest flushed against it, and pinning his wrists hard into the pillows. He fucked him increasingly harder, the sound of skin against skin— _Minho’s skin against his own,_ filthy yet melodic in Jisung’s ears. When his body attempted to writhe, Minho kept him still with his weight on his back and wrists, and Jisung could have repeated the older’s words back to him. _He was so hot._ ‘Do you like it when I hold you down? Put my weight on you?’

‘Mm, _yes_ , yes—’ 

The fort shook as their hips connected, the pace quick, hard, needy, trying to make up for every minute they’d spent beating around that stupid bush of theirs. They’d never make up for it all, but _god_ did they try. 

‘When you touched yourself earlier, in the bathroom,’ Minho groaned into his ear, snapping his hips hard into him, ‘did you think about me?’ 

Jisung squeaked and dug his forehead into the sheets. He could only manage a humiliating, barely-there ‘yes’ in response.

‘Say it again.’ His hands moved upward from his wrists to interlock with Jisung’s fingers, still pinning him to the blankets, but now somehow so much more fond. 

‘Y… yes,’ Jisung whined with all the strength he had, ‘I thought about you… touching me, and f… _fucking_ me, and… _fuck_ …’

‘Keep going, sweetheart.’ Minho sounded defeated, his usual composure shot down in the face of the mind-blowing pleasure.

Jisung’s stomach churned as he exposed his fantasies. Raw, and vulnerable, and scary had never felt so good. ‘Thought about you pinning me down, just— _god_ , just like this…’ he lost his train of thought for a moment, letting the ecstasy consume him, ‘and, and praising me, calling me cute, and teasing me, and kissing me, and finishing with me…’

He felt a kiss on his shoulder. The hold on his wrists lifted and he might’ve complained if not for then feeling one of Minho’s arms wrap him into a tight hug, so tight and warm. His cock was dribbling constant pearls of precum into the blankets and his tummy burned with an arsenal of two ruined orgasms and one upcoming. He held it back with a sob, muscles tensing and hole frantically contracting. His knuckles faded white where they grasped at the soft floor. He didn’t want this to end just yet.

‘No, no, no!’ Jisung squealed as Minho took hold of his cock underneath him. He pumped it within his fist and Jisung came closer to climax each time with a jolted arch of his back and a loud whine. ‘No, don’t wanna come too fast, please—’

Minho removed his hand and slowed his movements, kissing his ear. ‘Baby, we can’t do this all night.’

‘But—’ 

‘This is the first time of many,’ he reminded him, tone sweet as sugar. Jisung stopped complaining and bit back the fond tears that prickled in the corners of his eyes at his words. ‘Do you want to sit in my lap? And we’ll finish together?’

A nod and a muffled whimper. 

Minho slipped out of him and hauled him onto his lap, kissed him softly, before entering again. 

Every kiss felt just as good as their first; whether tongue-filled or simple pecks, they felt so perfect to Jisung. He cherished every touch of their lips and keened into every kiss, arms around Minho’s neck and combing through his messy, bedraggled hair, clinging tightly, never wanting to let go. They kissed like they’d never kiss again, and just the knowledge that they _would_ was enough to push it further, deeper.

The kiss had to eventually end, sadly, but Jisung found himself content enough when Minho instead pressed their foreheads together. With heavy breaths, he bounced the smaller boy on his cock. ‘I’m so close, baby. So close.’

‘Me—’ a gasp and a roll of his eyes, ‘me too, me too. Want to finish with you. Need to, please.’ 

‘You’re going to, sweetheart, I’ve got you,’ Minho reassured. Jisung moved to grab his own cock, only to feel Minho get to it first. ‘I’ve got you. Come for me.’

‘Come for me, too,’ Jisung repeated, swivelling his hips and bucking up into Minho’s hand. He closed all space between them, kissing him hard as they chased the same goal. 

In this frantic race, Jisung accidentally nudged a wall of the fort, knocking a chair to the side and wrecking the structure; the walls caved in a little more, enveloping them in blankets, and although they found it in them to giggle at the mishap, their hips continued to clash.

When it hit, _oh, god._

 _Oh, god, Oh_ fucking _god,_ Jisung swore he’d been sent crashing onto cloud 9 and even further, the stars on the insides of his eyelids flashing like strobe lights; physically, he felt something literally snap within him, his hips stuttering _hard_ and his whole body set alight and vibrating, and their chests coating with streaks of white. The first moans when it reached him were completely silent, his mouth hanging open against Minho’s and no sound daring to escape, stuck in a silent scream, and the moans that followed after were _obnoxiously_ loud, with quick squeaks and long cries. At some point, tears streamed down his cheeks, and Minho made a caring move to wipe them with his thumb, whispering, ‘I’ve got you, I’m here, fuck, good boy,’ before getting there himself.

And _oh, god,_ was he beautiful.

He let out his own whine into Jisung, rutting hard up into him and hugging his waist weakly, shakily. Jisung’s name stayed on his lips for god knows how long as the two rode their orgasms out. It sounded so pretty. His face contorted so prettily. So, so pretty was Minho, and so, so full of love was Jisung, and he liked to think the feeling was mutual, because even after their hips stopped rocking, and their highs had begun to fade, Minho kept him encased in a hug, face buried into his neck. He pressed the occasional peck to his skin.

Jisung didn’t want to get off of him. He wanted to sit like this forever, in their now broken yet still perfect pillow fort, in his lap, with his body pressed closely to Minho. He didn’t want the others to come home, as selfish as it was.

Minho lifted his head despite his silent complaints and stared into him deeply.

Jisung was looking up at him with quivering lips, words on the tip of his tongue that he wasn’t sure if he should say. 

‘What is it?’ Minho asked, and Jisung felt like he was going to cry.

His throat was tight. ‘Just really happy.’

Jisung liked to think that Minho understood — though in the back of his mind, crashing slowly forward, he _knew_ that Minho understood. ‘Me, too.’

And then Minho’s head was back in the crook of Jisung’s neck, arms pulling him impossibly closer. It would all be torn down by the time the others returned, so for now, they hugged, and the red strings connecting their skin knitted their own universe, and they stayed like that for so long.

**Author's Note:**

> What a day.
> 
> Thank you for making it this far! I hope you enjoyed it!! Any feedback means a lot to me and is hugely appreciated <3
> 
> Come find me:
> 
> Twitter: [@svngmissive](https://twitter.com/svngmissive)
> 
> CuriousCat: [sungmissive](https://curiouscat.me/sungmissive)


End file.
